


oh sweet spring rain

by reshirama



Category: Nier Gestalt | Nier
Genre: Brother Nier, F/M, GOOD HETS....., Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 17:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reshirama/pseuds/reshirama
Summary: gentle, gentle, the world comes undone.brother nier/kainé





	oh sweet spring rain

**Author's Note:**

> warning for mentions of child sexual abuse! this stuff is present in brother nier's backstory but just a warning. also brother nier's short story is so sad i LOVE him. not canon compliant!

Nier isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here,   Kainé's legs entwined with his, her heels on the floor next to his bed. The intimacy, their breaths mingling, is making his heart beat out his chest. He’s sure he has the strangest, most fond look on his face right now, but  Kainé, bless her heart, never was the most perspective, so perhaps it’s not too bad.

 “You don’t like people touching your hair, huh?” Screw that. He’s doomed.

 “No. It’s a long story, but… no.” The thought of it makes a shudder run down his spine, makes bile rise in his throat. 

 “Ah. Yeah, I know all about those kinda shitty long stories.” Nier blinks.  Kainé has hardly talked about her past- little bits here and there. A mention of a grandmother, stories of stones and abuse briefly tossed around as though they were nothing.

 This close, Nier can feel her whole body tense and relax.  Kainé is a spring twisted tight, and he’s feeling her uncoil. It’s nice to know that she trusts him so much, but it’s sad to think that she had to feel that way at all. 

 There’s a story in her skin and muscle, that she won’t tell and he won’t ask. His ankle over her thigh can feel the shade in her curl and spin, muscle made with a mind of its own. She was living for revenge alone before she met him, a spindly teen with naivety and hope despite everything.

 How could have he thought that? The boy back then and the jaded young man had had the same childhood, had they not? Orphaned and lonely, aside from his sweet sick little sister. Living in a dead world of dead people. Everything is rotten, how could have he not seen it before? Even  Kainé, beautiful Kainé, with her twisted limbs and snarl for a mouth.

 “Some guy cornered me in the village. I was on my way home from getting shopping, and he pulled me into an alley. I guess I matched some kind of shitty fetish of his.” Nier feels  Kainé shrug. “Anyway, I ran for it. Left my underwear and the shopping behind, and told my grandmother. I never saw the guy again. Rumour had it he fell to his death.” Nier doesn’t know exactly what she means, but he smiles against her shoulder in what he hopes will be comforting.

 There’s a pause. It’s his turn. He doesn’t have to, but he wants to, he wants to tell her because he trusts  Kainé more than anything. 

“I… really needed money for Yonah.” He feels  Kainé growl a swear, feels it vibrate round his chest. “I got desperate. A man offered, and… gods,  Kainé, I just didn’t have any choice.” 

“It wasn’t your fucking fault.” She’s angry, not at him. But the anger radiates through her, and he flinches. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Nier. Are you okay?” It takes him a moment to realise that he’s disentangled himself from her. A soft murmur of apology and he settles down next to her again. Her body is warmer than even Yonah’s, in her fever ridden state. She’s like a sun, a furnace. He guesses it’s her shade limbs, or maybe she just has a naturally high body heat?

“Anyway,” he croaks, “I was also hunting shade for money at the time. And I ran into him and I…” Her hand slips around his shoulders, pulling him close, into the crook of her neck. “I killed him. He just… looked at me, and I felt dirty. And it didn’t feel wrong.” His hands shake, and one of   Kainé's catches it, squeezing it.

 “That’s because it wasn’t. A piece of shit like that- who hurts children- deserves to fucking die. You just shouldn’t have been the one to do it. But it wasn’t fucking wrong.” He stares at her, eyes wide. Who is she? Where did she come from? Why is she in his bed? “Is that why you kept it in a ponytail all those years ago?” He nods, mute. “Piece of  _ shit _ . I’d’ve given him my opinion in a moment.”

“When don’t you?” Nier rasps with a laugh, and she elbows him.

 “Shut the fuck up, snarky. I’m more fucking restrained than you’ll ever give me credit for.” Her voice is a rumble next to his ear, and it sends vibrations up and down his spine in a shiver.

 He’s no good at banter with her. He can snark back and forth with Weiss all day, but the moment he tries to talk back to  Kainé, his legs shake and his heart melts. He thought it was fear once. He’s not so sure now. 

 Kainé is graceful and jagged at once, two extremes pressed together like blades, whirring sharp enough to maim and kill and tear but so beautiful.  Kainé is more beautiful than anything he’s seen before.

She leans up on one arm, swan like and gleaming in the light of dusk that filters through the windows. “Hey, Nier.”

 “Hmm?” He stares up at her, eyes glassy. 

 “Can I… fuck.” She trails off. “God fucking damn it- tell me if I’ve overstepped my boundaries or… but can I touch your hair?” And she reels away, turning her back to him. “Fuck, nevermind, I’m sorry I asked, I know-”

 “Sure.” She freezes, looks over her shoulder with those misty brown eyes lit up with surprise.

“You mean it?” The low tenor of her voice whispers.

 “Yes. I trust you.”  _ More than you could ever know. _

 “Shit, Nier. Gods, I better not fuck this one up.” He wants to tell her that it’s okay, he knows she can’t, but then her fingers brush his hair and he’s almost brought to tears with how tender it is.

Popola once told him that intimacy, both romantic and platonic, sexual and not, is a release of emotion and stress. He’d made sure to hold Yonah all he could after that, and then Emil. He’d even tried to hug Weiss once, in one of his tantrums. But he’s never quite understood it until now, until   Kainé's fingertips, rough beneath her gloves, likely marred by scars and fury, brush the top of his head. 

 He leans in, opens eyes and smiles soft and reassuring. It’s all she needs. Even in gentle comfort, she is a conqueror. Her fingers sink soft into his hair, and she arcs over him, eyes full of  _ something _ he has no words for, and he’s sure that she doesn’t either.

 They sit there for about ten minutes, just breathing, Nier’s breath hitching whenever   Kainé's fingers hit a knot, her humming under her breath. The tune is nostalgic and melancholy. 

 “You’re wearing too many clothes.”  Kainé says, suddenly, and Nier nearly chokes. “I’m fucking serious. It’s the middle of summer. You’re practically still in full battle gear. You’ll roast!”

 “I’ve been fine so far.”  Kainé raises one eyebrow. Her fingers brush light through his hair and he nearly  _ purrs _ goddamnit. 

“Fine.” She slips off of him, no longer straddling him. Nier stands up, shucks off his thick top, and maybe  Kainé was onto something. It is hot here. 

 “I can strip down too, if it’ll make you feel better. Maybe I’m your fetish too.” She’s joking, he thinks. But there’s a touch of bitterness in her tone.

 “You’re not a fetish.” A soft  _ hah! _ from behind him. “And besides, I don’t have any fetishes.” 

 “I find that hard to believe.” They’re flirting, Nier realises, and it sends a rush of excitement to his gut. “Maybe you just haven’t fucked enough to find out.”

 Nier frowns. He might have been too busy to really settle down these five years, but he’s not inexperienced. He turns round to say it, but then   Kainé's eyes go wide, and he looks down.

Ah. He had forgotten his scar.

“Holy shit.” It’s claw shaped and long and twisted, pale against his stomach and still slightly red and angry. 

He shrugs. “It’s not too bad.” 

 “Keeping that covered up will hurt it, y’know. It needs oxygen.” Devola has said the same more than once. “Fuck, Nier, you fight with that? Are you mad?” She’s one to talk, he wants to say, but he also doesn’t want to rile her up. “C’mon.” She extends her hand, and he takes it, in just his trousers, very conscious that the amount of skin to skin contact they will be having very shortly is a lot.

 She pulls him down, rolls over so she’s straddling him again, and he stares into her eyes, feels the heat from her thighs, like a supernova, like the fucking sun. She’s warm fog on a spring evening, rain that runs hot, the scent of anticipation in the air before the storm.

 And then she kisses him. 

  Kainé kisses like she fights, elegance and ugly all at once. Her teeth scrape his lip, her mouth hot against his.

 This is a weapon as potent as her blades, not aimed at him but at her past, at his. She’s back in the fray of that fateful fight with him, stabbing the scumbag who took his 15 year old innocence. She’s tearing the throat out of the man in the alley. She’s picking up her groceries and putting her underwear back on and he’s there in a pool of blood.

 She’s kissing him with the intent of murdering everyone who ever hurt them. She sucks his bottom lip into her mouth and growls, but it’s not at him, and it’s not dangerous. It rumbles through her like a cat purring. 

 Gently, oh so gentle, she brushes her fingers through his hair and for her, his world falls into place.

 One kiss cannot undo months of abuse, but he takes the first step, feels her fingers tug and whimpers. He feels sick, but he doesn’t want to be cured.

 Kainé pulls back, more dazed than he’s ever seen her before. She blinks, eyes misty. 

“Thanks.” Nier croaks, and she blinks.

“What for?” Her mouth is swollen red, and he can’t keep his eyes off how it moves.

“For touching my hair. For kissing me.” He smiles, and she snorts, swats his arm playfully. (It stings.) 

 “You’re so fucking sentimental, Nier. Fuck, how did you survive five years without me?” She looks down at his chest and grimaces. “Wait, I don’t fucking need an answer.” 

 He laughs. This world is sick, but there is light to be found here. Emil is kind and sweet, Weiss, for all his fighting words, cares deeply and is endlessly loyal, and  Kainé- gods, Kainé- is warm and tough and furious, and he  _ loves _ her.

 Wait. 

 Ah. 

 Well, isn’t that something? He gulps slightly. Does she know?  Kainé can’t know. They’ve kissed, sure, but love? This world has no place for lovers. He reaches up to brush her face with his fingers, and she watches.

 Yes. This world has no place for lovers. So they’ll kiss, they’ll banter. Maybe they’ll even fuck. They’ll probably even tell each other about their pasts, they’ll fall asleep entwined, and Weiss will make risque comments that they’ll have to dance around to avoid explaining things to Emil.

 And it’ll be bittersweet and stilted, and then they’ll find Yonah and go their separate ways. But Nier will never forget  Kainé. He’ll never forget this moment, as he lies, everything bared to this wild woman with a flower in her hair and messy lips bruised red from kissing him too hard. This moment means the world to him, the universe. And he knows for sure he’ll tell Yonah all about her, and that she’ll ask, in that sweet voice of hers, ‘ _ Did you love her?’ _ , and Nier will smile soft and nod, small and sad. And Yonah will smile as well, and hold his hand in her’s.  _ ‘You’ll meet again, I’m sure of it, big brother.’ _ . 

 It already feels nostalgic, like a melancholy foregone conclusion. And so he doesn’t argue when  Kainé growls, and he feels it rumble all the way through his body as she leans down and kisses him hard, harder, hand soft against the scar on his chest.

 Her mouth and his mouth are twin blades, and both of them are swordsmen. They, naturally, excel. They, naturally, survive.


End file.
